


Superstition Ain't The Way

by sparksflycastiel (Seabrook73)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Editor Castiel, Grumpy Dean, Happy Ending, M/M, Writer Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 22:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5393426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seabrook73/pseuds/sparksflycastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has the job interview of his life with one of the top publishing companies in NYC, but the universe seems to be conspiring against him as he rushes to get there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Superstition Ain't The Way

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [SPN Writing Challenge](http://spnwritingchallenge.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [sparksflycastiel](http://sparksflycastiel.tumblr.com/)
> 
> As always, thank you to Lydia ([jensennjared](http://jensennjared.tumblr.com/)) for being the best beta ever <3

Dean did not consider himself to be particularly superstitious. He had walked on many a crack in his day and no backs had suffered the consequences. He had spilled salt and failed to throw it over his left shoulder more than once without any ramifications. He even made it a point to open an umbrella indoors every now and then; he was, after all, a rebel without a cause.

Dean’s nonchalant attitude towards the superstitious never seemed to matter, which is why when he was getting dressed and pulled on his shoelace only to have it snap in half, he didn't think much of it. He simply grumbled a bit to himself while pulling his back-up dress shoes out of his closet.

“Top quality shoes, my ass.” Dean glared at the offending footwear as he pulled on his slightly scuffed up, but unbroken, second choice shoes. “That’s the last time I let Sam talk me into spending a shit ton of money on designer anything.”

Laces done up and firmly in place, Dean stood to survey himself in his front hallway mirror.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Today was the big day. After a lot of hard work and persistence, he had finally scored a meeting with his dream publishing company, Heavenly Reads. One of the junior editors had actually looked at his manuscript and passed it along to the senior editor, Castiel Novak, who had subsequently contacted him for a meeting. Dean didn’t know much about the guy except for his name and job title, but to him Castiel Novak was already his new favorite person since he had read past the first paragraph of his manuscript.

“Looking good, Winchester.” Dean muttered to his reflection. “Let’s go kick some interview ass.” He bent to pick up his messenger bag a bit too quickly, throwing himself off balance and stumbling forward, shoulder bumping into the wall mirror as he did so.

Dean watched his eyes go wide in what felt like slow motion as the reflection he had just given a pep talk to fell to floor, ending in a shattering crash, shards of glass settling around him.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Dean cursed as he kicked some of the broken mirror pieces off his feet. Dean threw one last despondent look at the demolished mirror before throwing his bag over his shoulder and heading out the door. He would clean up the mess later; he absolutely could not risk being late to the most important meeting of his life.

As he walked briskly towards the nearest subway stop around the corner from his apartment, Dean shot off a text to his roommate, Benny.

_‘Watch out when you walk into the apartment later - broke the damn mirror. Will clean up later. Had to get to my interview.’_

Benny’s response came almost immediately. _‘Uh oh. Hope that seven years bad luck holds off until tomorrow haha. Good luck with your interview, brother.’_

Dean rolled his eyes at Benny’s mention of seven years bad luck. What were they, superstitious teenagers? That bad luck shit wasn’t real.

At least, that’s what Dean told himself when his metro card kept coming back as invalid at the subway turnstile – forcing him to buy a new one in a rush only to watch his subway leaving the platform without him after sprinting to try and catch it.

“Son of a bitch. Seriously?” Dean ran a frustrated hand through his previously carefully styled, and interview ready, hair.

Dean went into Plan B mode, running back up the subway stairs to frantically catch a cab. As he sprinted towards the nearest curb, arm already raised in the official NYC hailing motion, Dean thanked the taxi gods that an empty cab happened to be heading his way. The cabbie acknowledged Dean with a slight nod of his head as he slowed his approach to pull over and pick him up.

“Thank fuck.” Dean let out an exasperated sigh, relief flooding his body.

As Dean went to make the final leap between the sidewalk and the road, he felt himself trip over something, quickly followed by a piercing pain in his shin.

“What the fu – ARGH!” Dean, stuttering his feet to rebalance himself, looked down to see an angry black cat latched onto his shin. “Really? _Really!?_ ” Dean kicked the cat off in disdain, looking at the small shreds the animal had left in his pant leg. “I do NOT have time for this.” Dean groaned, turning back towards the road to catch his cab.

His cab that was currently driving away from the curb with some random passenger in the back seat. A passenger who was not him.

“Unfriggin’ believable.” Dean growled, turning to glare at the cat responsible for the newest disaster in his day. As if to mock Dean’s rising stress level, the cat was sitting calmly next to a nearby trashcan licking its paws. “I fucking hate cats.”

If Dean were a superstitious person (which he most definitely was _not_ ), the fact that the cat that had just thwarted his taxi ride was black might have worried him. Dean didn’t have too much time to think about it, however, since he immediately started looking for another cab to hail. It took longer than desired, but he finally got one.

At this point, Dean was running a good ten minutes late to his interview, so he barely waited for the taxi to come to a complete stop before throwing cash at the driver and dashing towards the high rise that housed the Heavenly Reads’ headquarters. He ran across the sidewalk, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw that the front entrance was under construction. Workers appeared to be repairing the clock above the doorway, effectively blocking the entrance except for one walkway – a walkway that went directly under the giant ladder the clock repairman was standing on.

After a broken shoelace, a shattered mirror, a black cat, and now a ladder underneath which he had no choice but to walk, even not-superstitious-Dean was starting to question whether there were bad luck forces working against him. Because, really, what were the chances? Regardless, Dean did what he had to do and powered through the bad luck trap of a front door, hurrying under the ladder as carefully as possible. 

Unfortunately, his bad luck fears were solidified when he stepped inside the office building and saw the floor Castiel Novak’s office was on.

“The thirteenth floor. Fan-friggin-tastic.” Dean steeled himself and entered the elevator, assaulting the number 13 push button. He would not be afraid of an elevator ride. He would _not_. Dean stared resolutely ahead as the elevator sped upwards, ignoring the pit in his stomach caused by hippy-dippy superstitious nonsense that had weaseled itself into his brain thanks to Benny’s stupid text and the morning’s course of events.

Although he would never admit it, Dean let out an actual sigh of relief when the elevator reached the thirteenth floor without breaking down or spontaneously bursting into flames. He even walked with a bit of pep in his step as he strode onto the thirteenth floor and towards Castiel Novak’s office.

Honestly, Dean should have known better than to let his guard down.

“Dude, watch out!”

But it was too late. Dean ran full force into the intern rushing around the corner with a tray of coffee cups.

“ARGH!” Dean yelped in pain as the coffee cups crashed against his chest, sending their hot contents spilling down his front.

“Oh my god,” the intern gasped. “I am so so _so_ sorry. I didn’t see you – and Ms. Masters freaks out if her coffee is late so I was going too fast around the corner – I didn’t mean to–”

Dean held up a hand, abruptly stopping the intern’s rambling. “Where. Is. The. Bathroom.” Dean clenched his jaw, using all of his mortal restraint to not punch the wall next to the intern’s head.

“Uh, three doors down. That way.” The intern sheepishly pointed Dean in the right direction.

Dean walked brusquely past the intern with no reply, throwing the bathroom door open with enough force to embed the handle into the wall. He went directly to the sink, grabbing some paper towels on the way to dry off his ruined shirt. Dean quickly accepted that his shirt was a lost cause and stormed back out of the bathroom, buttoning his suit jacket up in an effort to make the best of a bad situation.

Dean walked with conviction towards Castiel Novak’s office, a newfound sense of determination setting in. Yeah, he was 15 minutes late and his hair was a mess and his pants were shredded. And, yes, his white dress shirt was now an unpleasant caramel color and sticking to his chest in a distinctly uncomfortable way, but this was _his moment_ goddamnit. He had fucking _earned_ this. This meeting was his. He would just go in, apologize, and then knock Castiel Novak on his ass with his classic Winchester charm.

Or at least that was the plan until he actually _saw_ Castiel Novak.

After Dean quickly checked in with who he assumed was Castiel Novak’s secretary, it was only about a minute wait before a man dressed in a sharp suit with a blue tie and even bluer eyes was approaching Dean with an outstretched hand.

“Hi there, I’m Castiel Novak.”

Fuck, his voice was deep.

“You must be Dean Winchester.” Castiel flashed Dean an unfairly beautiful smile.

Dean simply nodded in response and shook Castiel’s hand since currently the only words running through his head were _‘Blue eyes. So very blue.’_

“I was starting to worry you weren’t coming.” Castiel gave Dean a half-smile.

Suddenly words no longer seemed to be a thing Dean Winchester understood. Which was especially unfortunate seeing as he was at an interview to convince someone he was a worthwhile writer, who were, in most publishing circles, expected to have a basic understanding of the English language.

“I’m guessing by your shirt and your pant leg there’s an explanation for your lateness?” Castiel prompted, his tone kind rather than accusatory.

“Uh,” Dean forced his brain to get back on track. “Yeah. Had a series of an unfortunate events happen on my way here.” Dean laughed lightly. “Let’s just say it’s an interesting story.”

“Lucky for you, I’m in the business of interesting stories.” Castiel’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Well, in any case, you’re here now.”

“Yeah.” Dean agreed, shooting Castiel his most winning smile. “I’m here now.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” Castiel grinned back.  “How about we go to my office to discuss our future together?” Dean raised his eyebrow at Castiel, who started to blush a bit. “That is, let’s discuss your manuscript and future with the company – Heavenly Reads.”

As Dean followed Castiel into his office, he couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. Looks like superstition had nothing on him.

Of course, not two seconds after that thought, Dean tripped over his own feet and face-planted unceremoniously into Castiel’s shoulder.

“Dean!” Castiel turned and caught Dean in his arms.

“Jesus – sorry.” Dean gasped as he pulled himself up using Castiel’s arms to balance. “This just isn’t my day.”

“Hmm…I’m not so sure about that.” Castiel mused as he gripped Dean’s shoulder a bit, making sure he was steady on his feet before letting go. He winked at the author before opening his office door for him.

Dean smiled. Maybe his luck wasn’t so bad after all.

 


End file.
